


Lavender and Spiced Honey

by rw_eaden



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Massage Parlor, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Smut, First Kiss, Interfaith, Judaism, M/M, Masseur Dean, Mutual Pining, Neo-Paganism, Nudity, Openly Bisexual Dean, Paganism, Photographer Castiel, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-05-23 17:19:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6124188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rw_eaden/pseuds/rw_eaden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel isn't big on the whole massage thing, but his sister insists that he do something about his stress levels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt from @profoundfall on Tumblr: I've seen a few fics where Dean is this high-strung guy and he goes to hippie Cas for a massage/yoga/etc, but let's reverse that! Cas is stressed and tense and Dean gets him to relax.  
> \--- This work is not complete at the moment.

Castiel had imagined the massage parlor as some repurposed office building, something between a dentist’s office and Whole Foods. This building, on the other hand, wedged between a Chinese restaurant and a pawn shop, was odd. Various ferns hung from the ceiling, the pungent aroma of patchouli hung stagnant in the air, and just before he was whisked back to a room, he has spied a stack of fliers advertising a new medical marijuana distributor on the check in desk. This was not what he had expected. Of course, he wasn’t sure exactly what he had been expecting, he had never had a massage before. The idea of a stranger pressing their hands into his naked body was conniption-inducing. He’d never have done it if Anna, his sister, hadn’t already made the appointment.

“You heard Dr. Singer,” Anna had said, “If you don’t do something about your stress it’s going to kill you.”

He had pleaded for her to cancel, Castiel said he’d try something else; yoga, a gym membership, hell, he’d even try art classes, something, anything, but Anna refused. “I’m not paying the cancelation fee. And watching you squirm is just too good,” she said smirking.

Castiel sat on the edge of the table, plucking at his fuzzy robe while his eyes searched for something to focus on. The white walls were bare, save for a few laminated posters detailing reflexology and chakras. A single salt lamp stood in the corner, bathing the white walls in soft orange light reminiscent of the Puerto Vallarta sunsets he has grown accustomed to as a young man. He shut his eyes, recalling the coast, the sun dipping into the water causing the ocean to shimmer like gold. He inhaled, longing for the salty tang of the air but instead was hit with the something spicy, sweet, and flowery. It was Lavender and something else, maybe cinnamon or cloves. It wasn’t the sea breeze, but it was nice, and he let his shoulders fall, just a little.

Castiel jumped as the latch clicked and the masseur walked in. Oh, hell. He’d been praying for a big burly man or woman, preferably with a beard and bad skin, maybe then he wouldn’t have to deal with the added awkwardness of a boner while an attractive person rubbed him down. So much for that. This man was tall, broad-shouldered, his cheeks and arms peppered with freckles. He did have the beginnings of a beard, but it was neat and tasteful. His dusty blond hair touched the tops of his ears. He was clad in jeans and a tight black t-shirt with the printed image of the goddess Lakshmi.

“You’re Castiel Novak?” He asked, easing the door shut behind him.

Castiel nodded, trying to swallow the lump forming in his throat. “Yes.”

“Dean,” he said, extending a hand. His green eyes shimmered as he smiled. It took Castiel a moment to register that he was supposed to take Dean’s hand. He did and gave a tentative shake. Dean’s hands were soft but firm and warm, not like Castiel’s own clammy palms. He released Dean’s hand and jerked his eyes down towards his own lap.

“Castiel, huh? Cool name. Don’t get many Castiel’s around here. Lots of Doug’s, John’s and Andrew’s. Where’s it from?” Dean asked, moving towards the far wall.

“It’s Hebrew. My parents were very religious. Or, my father was. I never knew my mother,” Castiel said. “She died when I was a child.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Dean said. He was bent over, reaching for something in the wooden cabinet. His shirt was just a little too short, exposing the flesh of his lower back, just above his jeans. Castiel resisted the urge to lick his lips. Dean retrieved a thin stick of incense which he lit on fire. His thin lips puckered as he blew the flame out and smoke spiraled upwards from the glowing tip.

“What’s that?” Castiel asked.

“Lavender and spiced honey. Personal favorite,” Dean said, setting the stick in the middle of a ceramic lotus on the cabinet. Then he turned to face Castiel. “Okay, Cas, you can take the robe off and lie down now.”

Castiel’s cheeks caught fire as he sat there, his body unwilling to move.

“You okay, man?” Dean asked, his eyebrow raised as he moved closer.

Castiel nodded and willed his lips to move. “I..I uh, just”

Dean nodded, his nose crinkling as he smiled, “I’ll turn around.”

Castiel stripped the robe off and lay down on the table, his face wedged firmly in the hole. “Okay,” he said.

Castiel kept his eyes down, staring at the dingy linoleum. Dean’s soft footsteps stopped as Cas felt soft material against his naked rear. The muscles in his tights tightened. Dean’s footsteps sounded again and Castiel exhaled deeply. His heart was jumping in his chest, his mind foggy. He tried to focus on the linoleum and the spicy sweet scent in the air. Then Dean’s hands were on his shoulders. Dean began pressing and kneading into Castiel’s muscles. He was forceful and deliberate but gentle. Castiel’s flesh was tingling at the touch, starting at his shoulders and ending in his hips and thighs. He suppressed a moan.

“You’re really tense. What do you do to relax?” Dean asked.

“Uhh…”

“Come on, man, really? You gotta do something.”

“Not really.”

The heel of Dean’s right hand was pressing into a knot just under Castiel’s shoulder blade. “You seriously don’t do anything? You just work all day or what?”

“Mostly.”

“Good God,” Dean groaned as he pressed harder. Castiel bit his lip. “You need to try yoga or smoke a joint or get laid or something,” Dean said.

“You sound like my sister,” Castiel said with a groan.

“From the looks of it, she’s not wrong. You should learn to chill.”

“Perhaps. But it’s…aahhahaaa,” Castiel let out a sharp, fractured moan as the knot in his shoulder released. Dean let out a deep, breathy chuckle and pressed into Castiel’s other shoulder blade.

Dean continued to make idle chatter as he worked through several knots. Castiel responded as best he could, occasionally letting himself groan. Just as he was beginning to feel himself loosening up, Dean removed his hands. “Looks like your time’s up, Cas,” he said.

“Already?” Castiel groaned.

Dean chuckled. “It’s been an hour and a half.”

Castiel pulled his head out of the hole and propped himself up on his elbows. “I only paid for an hour,” he said.

“You needed it,” Dean said, wiping his hands on a clean towel. “Plus last client of the day gets perks.” Dean flashed a toothy smile. Castiel’s lips twitched.

“I’ll see you again next week, ok?” Dean asked, walking towards the door. His shirt had ridden up again, leaving the curve of his back exposed again. Castiel’s legs began to tighten again. He only nodded.

“Good.” Dean put his hand on the door handle. “Maybe we’ll see what we can do about finding you something to keep that stress down.” He winked, his lips twisted in a sly smile, and left the room.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anna decides to set Castiel up for another appointment and possibly something more.

“You look like shit,” Anna said, glancing at Castiel over her magazine as he walked through the front door. 

Castiel rolled his eyes and hung his coat in the hall closet. 

“Was it really that bad?” She asked, rising from the couch. 

“The massage. No, no, it was fine. It was nice actually,” he said, sliding his loafers off next to the door. 

“Then why do you look like you just witnessed a murder?” 

“You’re exaggerating,” Castiel groaned. He passed through the living room and down the hall towards the master bedroom. 

“No shit.” Anna pushed past her brother and planted her feet on the plush carpet. “But you’re all pale and tense. You look like crap. What the hell happened?” 

Castiel shook his head and cast his eyes to the ceiling.

“Don’t you do that little head roll with me.” She thrust her finger into the middle of his chest. “Did the big burly masseuse hit on you or something?” 

A heat rose up in his cheeks and he absently stroked the back of his neck. 

“Oh my god, she did, didn’t she?” Anna gasped, her voice shrill. 

“No.” Cas could feel the corners of his lips twitching upward, betraying him. Dammit. He coughed “Besides, it was a guy, so…” 

Anna’s nose scrunched and she cocked a half smile. “So what, you’re weirded out because a guy was hitting on you?” 

“What? No.” Castiel shifted on his feet, swaying to the right. Anna swayed with him. 

“So was he cute?” Her voice lilted and she wiggled her eyebrows.

“I don’t know. Yes, maybe. It wasn’t like that. He wasn’t really flirting, he wanted to secure my business. Besides, it would be unprofessional to seriously peruse a relationship with a client. Which I’m not saying I would, because like I said, he was just being friendly and trying to secure my business,” Castiel said, swaying to the left this time. 

“Sure, whatever, Castiel,” Anna said, letting him pass this time. 

Castiel pushed past her and walked into the master bedroom, slamming the door behind him. 

“I’m making you another appointment,” she hollered from behind the door.

“Butt out, Anna,” he hollered back, tugging at his tie. She didn’t answer. 

Castiel stripped and changed into more comfortable jeans and a cotton shirt. He didn’t bother to glance in the mirror. If Anna said he looked like hell, she was probably right. He felt like hell. The massage wasn’t bad. In fact, the whole thing turned out much better than he had expected. His masseur, Dean, had been remarkably gentle and the whole experience was much more relaxing than he had anticipated. His shoulders and neck did feel much looser, and for the first time in weeks he didn’t feel a tension headache creeping up in the back of his skull. Of course, now there was a distinct tightness lingering in his chest and stomach. He had finally begun to loosen up when it was time to leave, and for the first time in months, Castiel could feel his muscles really let go. But then, Dean had to wink. Now he had to go back if he didn’t want Dean to think he was a jackass, but then, of course, that implied that he was interested. It wasn't that he wasn’t, he just didn't want to assume. Then again, Dean did initiate it. Or did he? A wink and a smile could be harmless, and mentioning it would be downright embarrassing if he wasn’t supposed to take it as anything more than harmless banter. God, could there be anything worse than laying naked on a table and saying something blatantly flirtatious only to find that the handsome man rubbing him down wasn’t interested? Smallpox, maybe. 

Castiel plopped down on the edge of the bed and ran his fingers through his messy hair. He needed a shower. 

****  
Anna was true to her word; she booked Castiel another appointment for Thursday after work. To his surprise, she didn’t bring it up until the day of, asking whether or not she should bother to wait up as they headed to their opposite cars. He only rolled his eyes and grumbled at her. The work day was as slow and arduous as always, but as the clock ticked on and it came down to quitting time, he found himself long for the day to be over altogether. On the drive to the parlor, he debated taking a side road home, getting some ice cream and lying his ass off to Anna, but she would know. She’d ream him for it. 

Castiel swallowed his nerves and went back to the parlor. He sat there in the massage room, fiddling with his fuzzy robe, watching the door handle. He was overthinking this. Castiel exhaled, the tension in his chest and shoulders weighing him down. There was a soft knock on the door and the handle turned. Castiel’s back muscles tightened. 

“Heya, Cas.” Dean walked through the door, a wide smile plastered across his face. 

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel responded, biting his lower lip to restrain the grin that wanted to burst across his face. 

“How’s your week been?” Dean asked, making his way to the incense cabinet. 

“Long,” Castiel said, “boring. Work’s been…uneventful.” 

“That’s not a good thing.”

Dean was squatting, peering into the cabinet, muttering something to himself. That husky baritone didn’t carry very far, but he had definitely let slip a few expletives. Castiel’s thighs began to tingle. He could stand to hear a few more of those hushed expletives especially if he could watch Dean squatting, bobbing up and - no. Bad. Don’t think about that. He stared down at the tile. Think about your grandmother. Redirect blood flow. As Castiel stretched, a loud pop came from his back and he groaned. 

“I heard that,” Dean said, his voice tinged with a snicker. 

God, had he said something out loud? “Heard what?” 

“Shoulder popped. Sounded like it felt good.” 

“Oh, right. It did.” 

Dean rose up and lit and incense stick. “Ok, Cas, I’m gonna stay turned around until you’re ready,” he said. 

Cas stripped off the robe and laid down on his stomach. “Ok,” he said. 

He felt Dean brush against him and place a towel over his rear, then Deans warm, oiled hands were on him. It was easier to deal with this time, and he found himself relaxing into ever push Dean laid into his shoulders and back. He sighed softly to himself. 

“You’re much less tense than last time,” Dean said kneading small circles into the ridge of Castiel’s lower back, “You get yourself something fun to do since last week?” 

“Oh, well,” Castiel paused to grunt as a knot near his spine released, “I took a bubble bath.” 

“Just a bubble bath?” 

“Yes.” 

“You know I was serious about finding you some way to relax,” Dean said. 

Castiel drew in a sharp breath. 

“Oh, did that hurt?” Dean asked, his fingertips jerking off Castiel’s skin. 

“No, no, you’re fine,” Castiel said. 

Dean set his hand back on Castiel as silence fell in the room. Castiel took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet flowery scent of the air. Dean’s hands moved down to the backs of Cas’s thighs. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger on either side of them. 

“So, like I saying,” Dean started. 

Oh, hell. Castiel bit his lip to prevent a small moan from escaping his mouth. His thighs were hot against Dean’s fingers, and his heart began to beat faster. 

“If you’re into yoga I know a chick. She’s great. She teaches beginners classes out of her studio downtown. It’s a little expensive if you pay per class, but if you pay per the month it’s only like twelve bucks a class,” Dean said. He was rubbing the flat back of Castiel’s right calf, sending a faint warmth up his leg and straight to his groin. 

“Oh, well I’m not very flexible,” Castiel said. Dean was probably pretty flexible, especially if he did yoga. He could probably get into all sorts of positions. Maybe he was one of those guys who could lay flat on his back and bend his knees so that his feet were up practically up on his own shoulders. No. No. Bad. Grandma. Think about grandma. 

“Have you tried painting? I’ve heard that’s fun.” 

“I’m not very artistic.” 

“Yeah, me neither.” Dean pressed the heel of his hand into Castiel’s thigh and pulled in up and down in the skin. Cas resisted the urge to shudder but failed to stop himself from sighing. 

“What about gardening?” Dean asked.

“I don’t have space.” 

“Yeah? There’s a community garden over on fifth. They’re always looking for volunteers to water and prune.” 

“I might consider that.” Castiel jerked slightly as Dean’s fingertips edged closer and closer to his rear. 

“You okay? You’re pretty jumpy.” 

Castiel’s body went ridged. All that work Dean had done was undone in an instant. “I’m fine,” he choked out. 

Dean’s fingers hesitated on Cas’s leg for a moment, then they were gone. 

“Alright, you can roll over now,” Dean said. 

Castiel jerked his head up and faced Dean. “Excuse me?” 

Dean took an uneasy step back. “You paid for a full body massage didn’t you?” 

“D-did I?” It felt like Castiel’s heart was about to jump out of through his throat. He swallowed hard, his throat dry. 

“That’s what it said on the schedule.” 

Anna. For as much as she said she wanted to help him, she sure seemed determined to kill him. “I…I…uh” Castiel stammered. 

Dean looked him up and down, his lips pursed. “You didn’t mean to, did you?” 

“No,” Castiel said. 

“Hmm, tell you what,” Dean walked over to the counter and wiped his hands off with a towel from the counter, “I can comp you for next time or I can treat you do dinner and we’ll call it even.” 

Castiel sat there, shocked for a moment. “Why?” He blurted. 

“I’d like to get to know you a little better. For a stiff with some hotshot corporate job you seem like a cool dude,” he said. 

“Data processing isn’t exactly a hotshot position,” Castiel said. 

Dean shrugged. “So, you up for it?” 

“Isn’t it…unprofessional?” 

“What could be unprofessional about a couple guys getting dinner off the clock?” Dean’s lips twitched upward as he spoke. His emerald eyes gleaming. 

“I, uh,” Castiel hesitated. If he came home now Anna would never let him hear the end of it. And what could be wrong with one dinner? It’s not like he was jumping into bed with this guy. Besides, it was basically like going Dutch. It was just dinner. 

“Yes. Let’s do that.”


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas get to know each other over pizza.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try to update this baby every one to two weeks, but life gets crazy so, no guarantees. But, don't worry. I'm not abandoning this baby. I have a plan so don't worry, I'm not done with it just yet.

Castiel wasn’t sure what to make of the restaurant that Dean had chosen. He had expected some kitschy little place, dimly lit, that served only vegan and gluten-free food choices. The appearance of the place did not disappoint. The mural on the far wall featured Bugs Bunny, the Pope, and Ret Butler, sitting on a cherry red ’66 Mustang in sharing beers in a corn field. The tables, the tops of which were collages of Italian postcards and roadmaps, were packed together with barely any walking room between them. Folk rock, some strange combination of indie/pop/techno and the occasional Italian-inspired swing tune played over the PA system. The phrase “Hipster Hell” came to mind. The food, on the other hand, was all pizza and pasta, and a lot of it, too. The aroma of marinara and yeast wafted through the air. Castiel had erred on the side of caution and chose just a plain slice of pepperoni. Dean on the other hand, opted for a slice of pepperoni, mushroom, red onions, yellow peppers, and artichoke hearts called “The Don”. The slices themselves were roughly the size of Cas’s head.

“This is different,” Castiel said as his eyes drifted up to the bicycle hanging from the ceiling above their heads.

“Yeah, this place is really something. I think it’s kinda fun,” Dean said. He folded his slice over itself and bit down on one end.

Castiel nodded and tilted his head, scowling down at the pizza. He slipped his fingers under the crust and eased it off the plate. The cheese began to slide down off the tip. He set the pizza back on his plate and pursed his lips.

“If you’re trying to have a staring contest with the pepperoni, I’m pretty sure you’re gonna lose,” Dean said with a chuckle.

“I’m trying to figure out the best way to eat it,” Castiel said.

“Just eat it.”

Castiel furrowed his brow, darting his attention between his plate and Dean, who had marinara sauce stuck to his chin.

“Roll it up, or fold it in half, or pick up the plate and ease a little off the edge,” Dean said.

“Do people really do that?”

“Yup. It’s pizza, not rocket surgery.”

“Rocket science.”

Dean shrugged and took another large bite. Castiel folded the pizza in the same way Dean did and bit into it, a grumble coming from his throat as a large swath of cheese and a few pepperonis slide off the slice. He tore the cheesy mess away from his lips and set it on the plate, scowling at the marinara and grease on this fingers. Across from him, Dean huffed softly and shook his head.

“What?” Castiel asked.

“Nothing.” Dean said, the corner of his mouth upturned, the wrinkles around his eye deepening. He turned to face the open dining room to their right. The faint shade of pink that grazed across his cheeks made the smattering of freckles on his face stand out.

“It’s not my fault the pizza is being difficult,” Castiel said.

Dean just shook his head and popped a wayward mushroom into his mouth.

“It’s good, though,” Castiel said, “just problematic.”

“Yeah, I found this place back in college. Ate more than my fair share of post-hell week cheesecake.” Dean said.

“What did you go to school for?” Castiel asked, wiping his hands on a napkin.

“Accounting.”

Castiel’s mouth fell open, eyes running up and down Dean, who was currently sporting at least a five-day stubble and wearing a baggy olive green sweater. It was difficult to imagine him in a suit and tie, punching numbers behind a desk. “Accounting? Really?”

“Yup.”

“God, why?” Castiel’s voice betrayed a little more shock and disgust than he’d hoped it would.

Dean shrugged. “Sounded practical at the time I guess. I was good with numbers.”

“So how’d you end up,” Castiel gestured vaguely at the air, searching for something that wouldn’t sound condescending, “not doing that?”

“Well,” Dean’s tongue darted past his lips as he shifted in his chair, “huh.” He reached across the table and took a long drink of his sweating glass of water. His gaze fell every which way but Castiel’s direction. “Short version is that I dropped out a semester before graduation, ‘cause I was bored. Wandered the country for a bit, met some people, put some things in perspective, eventually came back when I had nowhere else to go and decided to do something that would help people.”

Castiel nodded but said nothing. The implications of Dean’s eye movement, and the phrase “nowhere else to go” were not lost on him, but he decided it would be rude to pry. “Well, I’m glad you decided on massage. It’s certainly helped me,” he said.

Dean’s eyes help back to Castiel’s face and a thin smile creeped across his face. There was a shy weariness in his eyes, and Castiel couldn’t help but feel pulled in by Dean’s gaze. Then Dean cleared his throat and turned his attention back to his plate. Castiel followed suit, a faint disappointment bubbling up in his stomach.

“What about you?” Dean asked as he finished chewing, “Why data processing or whatever?”

Castiel tilted his head as he attempted another bite of pizza, this time without dragging the all the cheese with him. “Well,” he said after swallowing, “it was sort of the family business. My cousins own a marketing firm and I just kind fit the job description.”

“You like it?”

“It’s fine. Mostly. It’s just a bore.” Castiel said.

“So, why do it if it’s boring?” Dean asked.

“There’s good money in it.”

“So?”

“Well, I’m not exactly sure what else I’m supposed to be doing. And I might as well do something I’m good at and make some money.”

“Ok, reasonable, but have you considered it’s not worth it?” Dean asked leaning over the table slightly, a single eyebrow raised. Castiel found himself leaning in, also.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean why do anything if there isn’t some fulfillment in it? I’m not saying run away and join a commune or anything, but if you’re gonna be spending eight hours a day doing the same thing it might as well be something you like,” Dean said.

“You find giving strangers massages fun?”

“Well, yeah, sometimes.” Dean’s eyebrows shot up and then back down as his lips twitched. There was something mischievous lurking just underneath the emerald glint of Dean’s eyes. It was a little unsettling, like he was plotting something. “But they usually don’t stay strangers,” he said. If Castiel didn’t know better he would’ve sworn Dean’s eyes were lingering on his lips.

Castiel wiped his mouth with the napkin, Dean’s eyes still locked on him. Castiel wanted to say something, but sat there gaping. He was never very smooth or eloquent, not like his brother Balthazar, though if Balthazar’s long string of angry ex-lovers proved anything, it might not be such a bad thing. Well, normally at least. Right now he might trade his eye-teeth for some of that confidence.

Dean broke their eye contact first, digging back into his pizza. After a few moments of silent chewing from both men, Dean said, “So, I already know you don’t do a whole hell of a lot to relax, but please tell me you at least watch TV or something? At least Game of Thrones, right?”

“No, I’ve never seen it.”

“Are you kidding me?” Dean rolled his eyes. “That’s gonna change if I have anything to say about it.” He half-heartedly hit his palm against the table.

“I’m not a big fan of fantasy. I never got into Lord of the Rings, either,” Castiel said.

Dean stared at Castiel as if he had a dead fish on his head. “I swear man, you’re killing me here,” he said, shaking his head.

Castiel folded his hands on the table in front of him. He cast his eyes down, staring at his thumbs. He shrugged his shoulders in response.

“That’s okay, we’re livin’ in the age of Netflix. You’ll be addicted to some kind of trash TV sooner or later, so help me, God,” Dean said.

Castiel couldn’t help but smile. Usually, he didn’t take kindly to strangers being so presumptuous, but Dean wasn’t quite a stranger at this point. He’d seen him naked, after all. And, honestly, Dean was adorable, so he didn’t mind as much.

Dean offered to buy cheesecake once they finished their food, but Castiel turned it down. He wasn’t usually the kind to be full after a single slice of pizza, but it was a very big slice. The cleaned the table and set to walking down the street, back to the massage parlor and their parked cars. The night sky was a muted gray, the air thick with the anticipation of rain. The streetlamps that lined the sidewalk cast and orange glow on the red brick buildings they walked past. Dean had his hands stuffed in his jean jacket, his shoulder bumping against Castiel’s every few strides.

“What’re you doin’ this Saturday?” Dean asked.

Castiel’s breath caught on the exhale. Pin-prick tingles ran up his arms and his cheeks grew warm. “It’s the Sabbath,” he muttered without thinking.

“Oh, okay,” Dean said, eyes shifting up and down Castiel’s body.

“But, uh, I haven’t observed in years,” Castiel sputtered.

Dean’s gaze floated back to Castiel’s lips, a single eyebrow cocked. “So other than being a terrible Jew, what are gonna do?”

“I have no plans.”

“I could show you that community garden I was talking about earlier,” Dean said, nipping at his bottom lips ever so slightly.

Castiel flinched as a single raindrop landed on his cheek. Several groups of co-eds filtered in and out of some of the other restaurants and coffee houses they passed, walking quickly to avoid the impending shower. “I think I would like that.”

It began to pour when they were a block away from the parlor and the two of them ran to their cars. They exchanged numbers in the rain, standing at the front of Castiel’s beat-up Continental, and for a moment, when their eyes met, rain soaking Dean’s hair, his eyes blinking furiously to keep the precipitation out, Castiel thought about kissing him. It would be romantic - their first kiss in a downpour. He brushed his top lips with his tongue and then, for some ungodly reason said, “I guess I’ll see you Saturday.”

Dean’s lips curled in a gentle smile. “Definitely,” he said, “Drive safe, Cas.”

“You, too, Dean.”

And then they both stood there, nodding. Dean sucked in his bottom lip and patted Castiel’s shoulder, just once, his hand lingering a little too long to be completely platonic. And then, he turned around and headed to the black Impala sitting at the far end of the parking lot.

Castiel almost said something, but there was nothing to say. He climbed back into his car and although he was drenched with icy rain, his shoulder burned where Dean’s hand had been the whole way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone cares, the pizza place is inspired by a real pizza place I've been to many, many times and it's much weirder in real life than it is here.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean takes Cas to the community garden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about being horrible and not updating. This one's longer so maybe that'll make up for it.

The rain was coming down in thin, gentle droplets, pattering against cool orange brick beneath Dean’s thighs. It was nights like this that made him nostalgic for vagabond life, for the nights when he lay under a tent in the middle of nowhere, listening to the soft patting of rain on plastic, the steady swell of the ocean, the occasional symphony of wolf cries. He would’ve been naked right now if he could, but public decency laws and all that. Not that his neighbors would really mind, though, if Becky had been home she’d probably be ogling him from behind her screen door as he sat shirtless on the balcony, letting the rain wash over his skin and soak into his jeans.

Dean swung his legs as they danged off the edge of his second story balcony and took a few deep breaths. He wasn’t usually this jittery, but he couldn’t help it. It was this guy; Cas. Castiel. What a name. And he knew people with weird names. Pagans tended to call themselves all kinds of weird shit; Artemis Moonflower, Lady Sage, Merlin Nightshade. It was ridiculous really, like a bunch of angsty teenagers calling themselves the witchy-ist things they could do freak out there overly religious parents. And there was definitely some of that going on, but most of those people tended to show up to maybe one or two Esbats in the sanctuary of First Unitarian and then be gone come the Sabbat. But if he was the type to give himself a “witch name” it would have to be something badass, something that exuded mystery and power. Castiel was that kind of name.

Castiel the person, well, maybe. He was a stress out nervous wreck when Dean first saw him, and he was definitely more than a little oblivious. But there was just something about him that made Dean’s hair stand on end, something electrifying. Perhaps it the eyes that were like staring at the sun from under the ocean or perhaps it was the near virginal shyness he seemed to exude. Maybe it was the borderline obscene noises he barely allowed himself to make when he was pressed flat on the massage table. How knows? Whatever it was, he was drawn to the man. So drawn that he had probably stepped over a major line by asking a client on not one but two dates. It’s not like his boss would really care, but still. There was just something about Cas that made him feel like it would be okay. And thank fuck he actually said yes. That could’ve been a disaster.

But it wasn’t a disaster, and that was great, but now it raised more potential problems for Dean. Dating was all good and time but now what? Should he still give the guy massages? Lord knows he needed them, the guy was wound tighter than a priest in a brothel, but there was always the chance that being naked in front of the dude you were dating but not having sex with could cause more tension. Should he charge Cas? That seemed a little sleazy. He could always give him free massages, but he couldn’t really do that in the parlor. He could bring Cas to his apartment as long as he made it clear he wasn’t expecting anything. But there was always the issue of what was in his apartment, too.

Dean pulled his legs back up to his sides, steadying himself before he rose to his feet. It was getting cold, and staying out in the rain too long was a sure way to catch a cold. He pulled open his sliding glass door and entered the living room. He made his way to the bathroom, leaving heavy, wet footprints on the cream colored carpet in his wake. He peeled off his wet jeans and boxers, draping them over the shower rod before drying his body with a fluffy towel. He flopped down on the bed, face first and still nude. He wasn’t going to bother with clothes right now. He ran through a mental checklist of all the things he had to go tomorrow, now that he’d made plans for Saturday morning. He could save laundry for Sunday, maybe Monday if he pushed it. Grocery shopping could wait; he didn’t mind Chinese takeout three times in the same week. Vacuuming could be put off until whenever. The only thing he absolutely had to do was head to The Apothecary, and that had to be done tomorrow. And he’d have to make a list of all the shit he needed, when meant digging through he drawers and taking inventory. Which meant he should get out of bed. But bed was comfortable.

He fell into an easy sleep sometime after that.

*****

Cas lived in Paradise Valley because of course he did. Dean had only been there once before, for a kegger back in college. He was fortune that it was a judge’s son who had thrown the party because the cops were called and everyone was at least three sheets to the wind and high as a kite. The cops took one look at the kegs on the front lawn and told them to move it inside or to the backyard. If it had been anyone else’s house they all would’ve been arrested. Dean was thankful for once, that rich kids and their friends got advantages.

Cas’s house only a street way from the wall that keeps the residents in and the riff-raff out. It was smaller than houses closer to the center of the community, but it was still bigger than anything Dean could hope to afford; two stories, wrap around deck and a two car garage painted in a pastel blue with white trim. The curtains were drawn away from the bay window and woman with long head hair sat on the bench reading, her back pressed against the glass of the window. Tiny green leaves were beginning to bud off the tree in the small front yard and little tufts of grass were poking up from the cracked earth.

Dean pulled into the driveway and cut the engine. Should he have gotten Cas something? Like flowers maybe? Nah, it’s too early for flowers. He would come off way too strong. Besides, they were going to see flowers anyway. The car door opened with a squeal and he stepped out, making his way towards the door. He nearly tripped over the first step up to the deck and blushed furiously even though he was sure no one saw. He knocked on the door and the woman answered.

“Hello?” Her eyes trailed him up and down.

“Uh, hi. I’m Dean, here to pick up Cas,” he said.

She smirked and nodded. “Why don’t you come in,” she said, stepping back from the doorway.

Cas’s home wasn’t really what Dean had expected. Then again, he didn’t really know what he expected; maybe a pristine place with sleek modern furniture, but no. The couch was black leather, the carpet was gray and plush and several large, and backlit frames hung on the cherry colored walls. The end tables were all wood and almost black, probably stained wood.

“I’ll go get him,” the woman said, turning towards the long hallway, “Make yourself at home,” she added before disappearing down the hall.

Dean made his way to the frames on the wall. The frames themselves were thin black with thick glass covering the photographs they held. One was of a beach scene at sunset. The sunset was gorgeous, tuning the water below it golden and the sand on the shore a soft pink. Towards the top of the photo, a few stars poked out from the blackening sky. Near the center of the photo, a young couple sat on the beach, staring at each other. Another photo was of an old woman, her skin leathered with sun and age, sitting at a grave stone. She wore a black dress with bright green and red frills at the hems. Candles illuminated the space around her and the grave, where she sat drinking from a chipped mug. A full plate of food, probably tamales, lay in front of her. Dia de los Muertos, Dean recognized. The last was of a small child, half enveloped in shadow by the steps of a stone pyramid.

A door handle clicked from somewhere down the hallway. The woman came back into the living room, Cas following close behind her. His hair was combed down, but stuck a few locks on the side stuck up in weird angles. He was in jeans and a plain grey sweater. His lips were pursed downward, just slightly, and he squinted at the woman in front of him. He looked a little irritated. Dean smiled in spite of himself. Cas was cute when he was irritated.

“Heya, Cas,” Dean said.

“Hi, Dean.”

“You ready to go?”

“Yes, I think I am.”

Dean led Cas back to the front door, holding it open as Cas stepped out.

“I won’t wait up,” the woman hollered as Dean pulled the door closed. Dean chucked.

“Ignore her, she’s just being a pest,” Cas said.

“Is that the sister you were telling me about?” Dean asked.

“Yes, that’s Anna.”

Dean walked in front of Cas, unlocking and pulling the passenger door open. Cas slid in and Dean made his way around the front.

“She doesn’t seem that bad,” Dean said, staring the car.

“You don’t live with her.”

“Fair point.”

For the next few miles, the only sound was the dull purr of the engine. Cas’s eyes darted around, looking out the passenger window, then the windshield, the dashboard, Dean, the window again, and back to the backseat.

“You okay there, Cas?” Dean asked.

“I’m fine.”

Silence again. They spent the rest of the drive in silence. Cas finally settled his eyes on the window, his elbow propped against the doorframe, his hand cradling his chin. It was awkward. Why was it awkward? Their first date hadn’t been so awkward. Maybe Cas was just a quiet guy. But for the life of him, Dean couldn’t think of anything to say. He could start talking about his car but he knew that was probably a bad idea. He had a tendency to go on and on and on about his baby, even to the point that his own father, who worked in an auto shop, got tired of hearing it. Cas would probably be bored to tears.

The garden itself was on the grounds of Holy Cross Lutheran Church. The church itself didn’t have a policy regarding who could and couldn’t tend to the plants, and they didn’t require anyone to attend service if they wanted to participate. That didn’t stop some of the people involved from trying to proselytize to volunteers, though. Was Cas going to be okay with that? Sure, Dean had gotten some of the people to quit asking after a while, but they hadn’t met Cas before. Cas climbed out of the car before Dean had the chance to open the door for him. Dean followed suit.

“Is this your church?” He asked, looking up at the cone shaped steeple.

“Nah,” Dean said, walking towards the sidewalk. “This way,” he gestured towards the front doors of the church.

Cas followed as he made his ways past the sanctuary and towards the rear exit of the church. The place was silent, except for the hollow sounds their feet made against the carpet as they hastened through the church. Dean pushed the double doors open and they walked back out into the sunlit. In front of them, several wood planters sat vacant. About a dozen or so people mingled amongst them, some sitting on the planters, a few lingered around a wheelbarrow, others just standing around talking. A young woman with long dark hair stood next to a stack of bagged soil, flipping through papers on a clipboard. Dean made a b-line for her.

“Hey, Hannah,” he said as she looked up from her papers.

“Hi, Dean. I didn’t expect to see you here today.” She smiled and shaded her eyes with the clip board.

“Well, I have a friend who might be interested in the garden thingy,” Dean said, gesturing to Cas. Behind him, Cas gave a timid wave. “This is Castiel.”

“Hello, Castiel. Hannah.” She stuck her hand out and Cas took it. She smiled wide at him, her white teeth glinting in the sunlight.

“Hello.” Hannah hadn’t dropped Cas’s hand until he edged backward. She probably wasn’t even aware she was doing it.

“So, uh, Hannah, you still looking for volunteers, ‘cause Cas here might be interested in helping you out,” Dean said, moving to the side.

“Of course,” she smiled again, tilting her head to the right ever so slightly. “Though I think we’re covered for today. We’re just going to fill the planters with soil and mulch so there isn’t anything exciting going on. Next week we’re starting on the veggies if you’re interested.”

“I could manage that,” Cas said.

“Great,” she handed Cas the clip board. “The third page there is the sign-up sheet. It’s just your name and email, but if you put down your phone number we can send you text reminders if you want.” Hannah paused for a moment when she glanced at Dean. He hadn’t been aware that he was giving her some kind of eyebrow attitude, but he must’ve been, judging by the way she stammered when she spoke again.

“We, uh, we have classes on gardening. That sign-up sheet is the second from the bottom. We teach pruning and proper plant care. Everyone is welcome to join,” she said.

“Thanks. I used to do a bit when I was younger,” Cas said.

“Really, what’d you grow?” Dean jumped in this time before Hannah had the opportunity.

“Produce, mostly.”

“Were you one of those guys who grew pumpkins for competition and then chucked ‘em to see how far they flew?” Dean asked.

“No, of course not,” Cas said handing the clip board back to Hannah, his eyes on Dean as he did. “It was tomatoes for splatter radius.”

Dean made a sound that was just shy of a cackle. Cas, arched his eyebrows, his eyes wide. For a moment, Dean wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be a joke or not until Cas let out his own breathy laugh. That set Dean off on a giggle fit and soon the two of them were standing there, laughing at each other, in half-nervous amusement. Hannah stood there, eyes the two of them, patient smile still on her lips even though her eyes said she thought they were nuts.

“Thanks, Hannah,” Dean said after the laughter had subsided.

“Anytime,” she said. “And you’re both welcome at tomorrow’s 10:30 service if you’re interested.” Her gaze bounced back and forth between the two of them, expectantly.

“Thank you. Are the roses blooming yet?” He asked quickly.

“I think…” Hannah started.

“Great, hey Cas, let’s go check them out,” Dean said, tugging at Cas’s sleeve.

Cas had time to mutter a short thank you to Hannah before Dean practically bolted towards the fence furthest away from Hannah, towards the boundary of the church grounds.

“What was that about?” Cas asked as they stopped in front of a row of knee-high bushes.

“Nothing, I just thought you’d like to see the roses.”

Cas tipped his head upwards with a frown. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” Dean stooped down to examine the bush in front of him.

“You sure it wasn’t because she was flirting with me?” Cas asked coolly, stopping down to meet Dean.

Dean turned his head to find Cas hovering in his space, his eyes boring into him like he could read his mind. God, he was intense. It was kinda hot. Dean couldn’t help it when his eyes fell to Cas’s lips. He also couldn’t help it when he licked his own, which Cas caught. Dean scooted backwards just a bit. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to kiss Cas, he just didn’t want to do it near a church. Sure, this group of Lutherans didn’t have a thing against gay relationships, but it still felt kinda rude.

“Well, I mean…” Dean faltered, looking back at Cas’s lips. He willed himself to look Cas in the eyes, but that didn’t help much. Cas looked at him with such intensity, like is face held all the secrets to the universe in some strange code that needed to be cracked.

“You’re a cute kind of jealous,” Cas said.

Dean ducked his head. The back of his neck was starting to heat up just slightly. It probably wasn’t the sun. He turned his attention back to the bush in front of him and noticed a single rose bud, soft pink petals peeking out from its green covering.

“Aw, man,” he said, resting his fingers against the bud.

“What?” Cas asked, leaning into the bush.

“It’s broken,” Dean said. The bud drooped from where it sat barely attached to the bush. “I don’t think they’ve got their shears out yet,” he said reaching for the waistband of his jeans. He pulled a small pocket knife from where it was hooked on his belt loop and flicked it open.

Dean held the stem tight. “Sorry about this,” he muttered and pressed the knife through the stem in a single fluid motion. The bud came away clean. He held the rose bud between them, twirling it.

“I think,” he said, “this one’s one of the crossbreeds they bought a year ago. Aphrodite, I think.”

“Aphrodite?” Cas asked.

“Yeah, these ones bloom really big, almost like a ball of petals. They smell nice, too. If you put it in a little water it will still bloom. It’ll die after it does, but it won’t wither and stay a bud. Here,” Dean pushed the flower towards Cas.

“For me?” Cas brought his fingers around the stem.

“Yeah, for you. Who else would I be talking to?”

“Thank you, Dean.”

Dean pulled away. Cas twirled the flower between his fingers just once, then looked up at Dean, his face glowing in the soft sunlight. The corners of his mouth turned up in a tender smile that instantly made Dean’s stomach flip. He shouldn’t be feeling this warm all over this early, but here he was, feeling warm none-the-less.

“What?” he asked, perhaps a little sharper than he would’ve liked.

Cas said nothing in response. He just shook his head and tucked the rose into his shirt pocket.

Dean stood abruptly, reaching his hand out for Cas. He took it and rose to his feet. “

“You had breakfast yet?” Dean asked.

“I could go for some coffee.”

There was a Starbucks fifteen minutes from the church. Dean felt a little guilty about his love of Starbucks but he couldn’t help that stupid java chip Frappuccino addiction. Cas, it turned out, was just as bad, asking for a double shot of espresso in it. It didn’t seem to faze him at all.

“Sorry, the garden was kind of a bust,” Dean, settling into one of the tables.

“What do you mean?” Cas asked.

“Well, they weren’t doing anything. I kinda expected them to have something planted by now with all the rain we’ve gotten.”

“Well, it’s only the beginning of April. They still have time.”

“Yeah, but still.”

“I don’t mind. It was nice to see you again.” He smiled around the lid of his coffee cup, looking at Dean through his eyelashes. Dean’s stomach did a little flip again.

“Yeah, I liked it too.”

Dean felt Cas’s eyes settle on his lips. The mellow, coffee scent in the air grew thicker between them. Cas was leaning closer over the table, and Dean found himself pulled towards him. Cas was staring at him like he was trying to memorize his face. Dean couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. It wasn’t that he didn’t like it, it was just that, well, who knows. There could really be something going on between them, something that just might lead somewhere. And that was exciting. And a little nerve wracking.

“So, uh, I was gonna ask you about those photos you had in your house,” Dean said, breaking the silence.

“What about them?”

“They’re really nice. I was just wondering where you got them.”

“I took them,” Cas said.

“You did?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t know you did photography.”

“I used to,” Cas said, setting the cup down and leaning back against the chair. “Not anymore.”

“What? Why not? Those where great, man. Like something in National Geographic.”

“Long story short I realized that photography wasn’t going anywhere. It was fun when I was younger, but not for a living.” Cas brought his hand to his mouth. He was chewing on his knuckle.

Dean looked him up and down. There was obviously something Cas wasn’t telling him, but he decided to let it go.

“Still,” he said, “they were great. And I mean that.”

“Thank you,” Cas said.

There was another stall in the conversation until they picked it up again, this time with Cas asking questions. They fell into an easy conversation, first about Dean’s car and why he drove a gas guzzler instead of some Prius or something. He explained that it was a gift from his father, and the only possession he’d kept since he turned eighteen. He didn’t talk about the few months he was living out of the car, but Cas didn’t ask. They talked about their siblings for a while, Dean about his younger brother Sam and Cas about his three older brothers and two younger sisters. Cas went through his coffee and then a green tea before Dean finished his Frappuccino.

Dean took a long sip from his cup. Whipped cream smeared across his palm from the rim of the cup and without thinking he licked the streak. Cas watched him, shifting slightly in his seat, his gaze hot against Deans skin. He glanced down at his watch.

“Crap,” Dean said.

“What is it?”

“I forgot I agreed to go over to my brother’s for dinner. It’s almost four and he lives like forty minutes from my apartment.”

Cas hummed against his cup and took a final swig from his cup. “I suppose that’s just as well. I have no idea what Anna’s doing by herself at home but I wouldn’t be surprised if she set the kitchen on fire again.”

Dean huffed a laugh as they made their way back to the car. Cas allowed him to hold the door open for him again and they started off towards Cas’s house. Dean glanced over at Cas while they drove. He’d never really thought of men as beautiful, he kinda thought it was weird, but if there was ever a word to describe Cas, beautiful was it.

“Hey, Cas, I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Dean said.

“What’s that?”

“Have you…have you made another massage appointment?”

“No, I don’t think so yet.”

“Well, I don’t feel right about charging you so if you want I have a massage table in my apartment.” Dean glanced over at Cas. He was watching him with a blank expression. He didn’t even raise his eyebrows. “But, if that’s weird or whatever I can make sure you get set up with Brady at work. He’s great. And…”

“Dean,” Cas interrupted, “It’s fine. I wouldn’t mind going to your apartment.”

“Okay. Okay, good. I just didn’t want you to think, you know, how it sounded.”

Cas shook his head. “It's fine, Dean.”

Dean let out a short, shaky breath. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

Dean pulled into Cas’s driveway and they climbed out of the car.

“Thank you, Dean, I had fun today,” Cas said when they reached the door.

Dean smiled down at him. “I’m glad.”

“We should do this again.”

“Yeah, sure. When?”

“Does Thursday night work for you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, Thursday’s good.”

“Okay, then. Thursday.”

Dean hesitated, unsure of whether or not he should take a step back. Cas’s didn’t move to open the door, but he wasn’t doing anything else either. He searched Cas’s face for an answer but he just stood there.

Dean ducked his head, “Well, then…”

And that’s when Cas surged upwards, pressing his lips to Dean’s. Dean leaned into in immediately. Cas’s lips were supple and warm and he tasted like tea. It didn’t take long for Cas to catch his bottom lip between his own. What started out as a gentle, chaste peck was turning into a silent demand and Dean was more than willing to comply. Cas tugged at Dean’s lips with his own, slide his tongue across the roof of Dean’s mouth, pulled their bodies closer with the only the heat of his kiss. Dean was just about to slip his hand into Cas’s hair when Cas pulled away. He stood there for a moment and Dean watched as his eyes locked with his own and then settled them on Dean’s lips. He smiled, his cheeks flushing a bright pink.

“I’ll call you,” he said, putting his hand against the door and pushing it open behind him.

“Yeah, okay,” Dean said. He blinked a few times, steadying himself. His pulse was pounding in his ears and he could still Cas’s lips on his own.

Cas walked backward through the doorway. “Have a nice night, Dean.”

“You, uh, you, too.” Dean nearly stumbled off the porch.

Dean’s head and chest were abuzz as he made his way to Sam’s place on autopilot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blessed Beltane everyone!
> 
> Also, thank you so much to everyone who's left comments and kudos and to all of you who've been following the story. Thanks a million. You guys make my day. :)


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean starts to overthink things.

Dean never did get his errands finished before it was time to pick Cas up on Saturday. It wasn’t that big of a deal, though. Sundays were for laundry and grocery shopping anyways. The only thing he wasn’t able to get accomplished before Monday was his trip to the Apothecary, which really couldn’t be put off any longer than he already had. So that meant dragging his ass out of bed at six in the morning and driving down to Fourth Street, three blocks away from work.

The Apothecary was owned by a man called Cain. No one was really sure if that was his actual name or if that was just what he called himself. He had owned the shop for decades, opening it with his wife in the eighties back when the whole satanic panic was sweeping the nation. He had been six the first time his father sat him down and told him why he wasn’t allowed to go trick-or-treating with his friends alone. John Winchester had been a beat cop with the Lawrence PD and he had plenty of reasons to worry about the world around them, but for some reason, he had chosen to focus on the dangers of witches and devil worshipers. He was told of how young children would be taken off the streets, especially right before Halloween, and sacrificed to the Devil by hooded figures. He was told it was a fate worse than death because his soul would go to Hell to be a servant of Satan and he’d never see his parents again. It scared the shit out him. It wasn’t until he was sixteen that he felt comfortable sneaking out on Halloween night and even then it was largely because he wasn’t a virgin anymore and therefore useless to the supposed witches.

Of course, everything that his father had told him about the world turned out to be bullshit. He knew a couple of Satanists and they weren’t that bad. Really, they just wanted to be left alone to do their own thing. The people who called themselves witches were probably some of the nicest people he’d ever met. The real monsters were those who claimed to be upstanding citizens. Hell, if he hadn’t met Missouri – well, he didn’t like to think about it.

He pulled his car into the parking lot The Apothecary shared with a Dominos and shut the car off. The store front was different, painted a fresh spring green color and a digital scrolling banner had been added under the sign. He pulled the door open and the small bell tinkled against the glass. He took a deep breath of the air. He’d never been able to tell exactly what was in the air but there were some definite flowery notes to it. Whatever it was, he liked it and he liked that it tended to stick to the bag he brought home.

“Hello, Dean, haven’t seen you in a while.” Dean turned his head to find Cain smiling at him from behind the counter, a legal pad, and calculator sitting in front of him.

“Yeah, what can I say, I’ve been a little busy recently,” He said, grabbing one of the black plastic baskets from next to the door.

“I see. Nothing too difficult for you I hope.”

“Nah, just work and the usual. You know how it goes.”

The store was fairly small but organized. The wall to the left of the door was half covered in hooks, each holding several bags of incense blended in house. The other half of the wall held a large, locked cabinet with glass doors where the oils were kept. The rest of the store had several rows of shelves that only reached hip height, which held jar candles, grimoires, chalices and other assorted magickal tools. Various pillar candles sat in individual bins on top of the shelf in the middle of the store. The wall across from the door had two doors, one that always remained closed and one where Missouri and Mildred read cards and palms for patrons. The wall to the right of the door was blocked off by the register and counter, behind which sat several dozen labels jars of herbs.

Dean made his way to the wall of incense, grabbing several bags of lavender and spiced honey, Aquarius, dragon’s blood, and one called Nemesis. Next was half a dozen black, green, blue, red, and white candles. He groaned to himself when he eyed the price on the silver and gold candles, but tucked two into his basket regardless. A movement to his left caught his attention as one of the back doors opened, a small, dark-haired woman exiting the room with Mildred close behind, her hand on her shoulder. The woman rushed out of the store and Mildred shook her head, smiling lightly.

“I’m serious, one of these days we need to post a warning about online psychics in the window,” she said after the front door closed.

“What was it this time?” Cain asked.

“The usual. She was told she was cursed. Her online psychic friend was willing to take it off though for the low-low price of $250.”

Cain snorted. “Is that all?”

“Apparently so.” Mildred crossed her arms over her chest. “And I’m serious about that sign, Cain.”

“Type it yourself then Mildred.”

Mildred shook her head, then smiled when her eyes landed on Dean. “Well hey there, stranger.”

“Hi, Mils.”

She squinted, a sneaky smile on her lips. “What’s his name?” She asked.

“What?” Dean jerked up a little, taken aback.

“You heard me. The guy you’re seeing, what’s his name?”

Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Dammit, Mils, you gotta quit doing that.”

“I’m sorry, darlin’, but I can’t help it. You’re practically glowing,” she laughed.

“I’m not glowing.” Dean turned to Cain who just rolled his eyes and went back to his calculations.

“Come on now,” she said, bridging the distance between them and resting her hand on his elbow, “I know we’ve got something here that you could use.” She pulled him close to the incense wall, surveying it quickly.

“Mils, I appreciate you’re tryin’ to help but…”

“Here!” She plucked a bag of incense off the wall and put it in his hand.

“Love Potion #6? Talk about a cliché.” He snorted.

“You’re thinking of #9. But that’s only useful if you’re wooing women.”

“Look, Mils, you know how I feel about love spells…”

“Good for you it’s not a love spell. Not in and of itself. It’s just incense.”

Dean rolled his eyes again. “You know what I mean.”

“Come on, it couldn’t hurt. It’s more of an attraction builder anyway,” she said, swatting the air, “besides you’ve got your third date coming up and you know what that means.”

Dean’s stomach flipped. “You know, I’m starting to believe that you’re more of a stalker and less of a psychic.”

Mildred just smiled at him. “Just trying to help, dear. You’ve had quite a dry spell recently.”

“Oh, my gods! Seriously?”

Cain let out a dry chuckle from behind the counter, “Dean, even I know you need to get laid.” 

“You know, I don’t come in here to get ganged up on,” Dean scoffed.

“Oh? Where do you usually go?” Cain asked.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Dean grumbled.

“Just trying to look out for you, you know?” Mildred smiled softly. She reminded him of his grandmother. Well, when she wasn’t flirting with him or trying to get him laid, that is. She was sweet, though. And it was nice to have an older lady in his life, especially because his mother and grandmother lived so far away. And, even though she seemed to love to embarrass him, she did generally have good instincts. Which of course, led him to think about something he really hadn’t before.

“I’m fine, Mils. Besides, I’m not really looking to rush it,” Dean said.

“That’s probably wise,” Mildred said, a faint glimmer in her eye as she smiled and turned away.

Dean still put the incense in the basket. He didn’t have to use it right away and like she said, it couldn’t hurt. Dean strode up to the counter where Cain stood.

“The usual?” Cain asked, not looking up from his paper.

“Yup.”

Cain nodded and grabbed the keys off the hook behind the counter and walked over to the oil cabinet, retrieving three small bottles of brightly colored liquid. He set them on the counter, then dug out several pre-packaged bags of herbs and set them on the counter.

“These alright with you?” Cain asked.

Dean flipped through the baggies quickly. Yarrow, mugwort, lavender, cinnamon, thistle, and rosehips, all in half pound baggies. “Let me guess; Mildred?”

Cain’s lips twitched upward just slightly, then started scribbling down prices on a receipt book.

“You know, you really out to bring the store into the twenty-first century,” Dean said.

Cain rolled his eyes. “I prefer to do things by hand.”

It was Dean’s turn to roll his eyes. They’d been through this spiel a million times. He’d call Cain an old man and Cain would scoff and ask what the hell Dean would do if all his technology disappeared, and whether or not he’d even know how to add double digits without a calculator. For all of his modern sensibilities, Cain had one or two grumpy old man ideas about the way the world ought to work. His occasional bitching about technology was ridiculous, but at least it wasn’t the kind irrational irritation at anything and everything that wasn’t “the way it was when I was a kid” like his father’s bitching was.

He would’ve continued their usual banter but something on the counter caught his eye. Sitting there on the counter was a small display of circular, silver pendants, each with an image of an angel imprinted on them.

“Angels? Since when do you guys carry angel shit?” Dean asked, reaching out to run his fingers over the engraved image.   

“They’re popular,” Cain shrugged, “besides, they’re not the angels you heard about in Sunday school.”

“Oh?”

“They’re from the Kabbalah, Jewish mysticism. A little more involved than your typical Sunday school angels.”

“Really?”

“Apparently. I hear they’re important in ceremonial and Kabbalah maigck but I don’t know a whole lot about that.”

“Hmmm,” Dean flipped the pendant dangling between his fingers over, and his eyes nearly shot out of his skull when he spotted the name Castiel. “Okay, that’s just weird.”

“Hmm?”

“I just met a dude, the guy I’m dating, this is his name.”

Cain shifted his gaze, one eyebrow perched high on his brow.

“Yeah, his name is Castiel,” Dean said, letting the pendant fall from his fingers.

Cain nodded slowly. “That certainly is an interesting coincidence.”

“Do you think it could mean something?”

Cain shrugged. “It could. Depends on what you think it means.”

****

Dean ended up spending way too much money at The Apothecary, but it was worth it considering it had been a while since he’d been in to pick up supplies. Work wasn’t bad, but it left him with way too much time to think. Usually, it wasn’t so bad but today, Castiel was on his mind. He didn’t tend to get attached too quickly to his dates; it was a necessity of the way he lived his life. He was a bit of a drifter after he quit school, which meant one-night stands were a frequent part of his life. After he finally settled down, finding a person to actually have a committed relationship with was hard. The closest he’d gotten was a woman named Lisa who already had a kid of her own and didn’t have time for any bullshit. Things were good for a while, and they have seriously considered moving in together, but, as she put it “their lifestyles didn’t align”. Apparently, she was fine with his religious practice as long as her son wasn’t aware of it. In retrospect, he was glad they didn’t get much more involved than they already were when they agreed to go their separate ways. After that, the nature of his dating life went back to the ways it had been during his vagabond life.

Cas was different, though, and Dean couldn’t really pin down why. He was already falling pretty hard for the guy and they hadn’t even slept together yet. He was willing to break all his rules for the guy and have even considered taking Cas back to his room and showing him his altar before anything sexual happened. But maybe that was the way things were supposed to go. Maybe, this time, was supposed to be different. Maybe he was supposed to think that there could be something serious between the two of them. There were several signs pointing in that direction, signs that even Dean, who practically needed the universe to hit him upside the head with a two by four in order to get his attention, could see. The fact that Cas was up for dating was probably just a normal thing, but the rose, the Aphrodite rose, was a little odd. And now, there was the angle thing, put Cas, or at least his namesake, right in the most private circle of his life. Sure, it could all be coincidence, but Dean sort of hoped that it wasn’t. At least if the universe was trying to tell him something it wasn’t a sign of his hopeless desperation.

Dean got home early and decided to at least to the minimum he knew how to do to try and sort out his feelings. He entered his bedroom and stripped naked then made his way to the large wooden table in the south corner of his room. He took several slow, deep breaths, willing himself to loosen the tension in his shoulders. He lit the nubs of gold and silver candles sitting in the middle of the table, then rang the small copper bell sitting on his altar. He sat cross-legged on the floor, allowing the low light to wash over him, mentally drawing a circle around himself and his altar and then focusing on it. He imagined it as a barrier, a protective bubble, allowing only positive energy to pass through.  

This was the part that he still felt a little awkward about. Spell work and ritual were all fine, even when it was other people and everyone was naked. But this, actually sitting down to ask the Gods and Goddesses for help was weird. He wasn’t going to do the rhyming thing either. Sure, it might help build the energy of his words but it made him feel like he was reading a children’s book rather than talking to a Deity.

“Okay,” he said taking a deep breath, “Lord and Lady, you know how I am. I’m a little dense sometimes, and honestly, I think you’ve probably already been sending things my way. But, like I said, I’m dense, so here’s what I’m going to ask. I really like Castiel, for whatever reason, and I think there could be something really good between us, maybe even potentially something that could get serious down the line. So, what I’m asking is that if I’m not supposed to think that I’d like a sign. Something clear, because like I said, I’m a little slow on the uptake. So um, I’ll be keeping my eyes out. So thank you, both and uh, blessed be.”

Dean sat there in the low light, breathing in and out for a few moments, willing the awkward, squirmy feeling in his stomach to go away. Yeah, this was definitely the hardest part, but sometimes there just wasn’t a spell for guidance that seemed to encompass exactly what he needed. Sometimes, asking and meditating seemed to be a more appropriate choice. And after all, this path was supposed to be about what felt right, right?

Dean sat in silence, focusing on his breathing until the candles died out on their own. He pulled himself off the floor, mentally took down his circle, and went about the rest of his night. The next few days came and went without incident and then Thursday rolled around. There were not flashing neon signs telling him to go get too involved, no dead birds, nothing. Instead, stupid rom coms seemed to be on almost every single channel after he got off work.

He was a bundle of nervous energy all Thursday, unable to will himself to settle down. He got home and immediately set to cooking. Chicken cordon bleu, because it was labor intensive and at least he wouldn’t be pacing all night.  He hadn’t even decided what he was going to do about Cas’s visit. The worst thing that could happen was that Cas wanted nothing more to do with him and that would be okay. Actually no, it wouldn’t be okay, it would suck ass. But it was better to get it out of the way now before anything serious actually happened. Still, it was tempting to give into the sinking feeling in his stomach and not do anything about it, see how long they could play this out and maybe get Cas to fall in love with him before he told him about his faith. But that was dishonest, and it might make Cas angry. Still, maybe they should get to know each other a little better first, that way Cas would know that Dean wasn’t the kind of person to lash out with witchcraft after a nasty break-up. Or maybe if he waited Cas would be convinced he put a love spell on him. Shit.

He was jarred out of his thoughts and his dinner prep when a knock sounded at the door. He washed his hands quickly, took a fortifying breath, and let Cas in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So I'm gonna be a little busy for the next couple of months. I'm working on my DCBB so updates will probably be slower than usual. I'm really sorry about that. Just know that I still intend on writing this piece.


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